Hot and Cold Water
by moor
Summary: Kouchou x Seiran. Really, if he thought she wouldn’t be able to crack his shell, he was sorely underestimating her…


**TITLE: **Hot and Cold Water [Week 66]  
**AUTHOR:** **beyondthemoor** on LJ  
**RATING: **T  
**GENRE: **Romance/Humour  
**WARNINGS: **UST  
**AU/CANON:** Canon-ish, no set spot in timeline  
**PAIRINGS: **Kouchou x Seiran  
**WORD COUNT: 895 **words (approx)  
**SUMMARY: **Really, if he thought she wouldn't be able to crack his shell, he was sorely underestimating her…

**PROMPT:** #66 – Shell  
**NOTES: Apologies for any OOC! Also, this is my second attempt to meet the 'Shell' prompt for the challenge… my first one (The Misery Fairy) went over the word limit. D'oh!**

* * *

The ornate, crisp fan dangled in a completely non-premeditated way (as she'd intended) from her hand as she leaned out over the balcony into the rear yard, observing her employees. Some of the girls were doing laundry, their sleeves rolled up past their elbows; some sat in the shade, mending their costumes or practicing music as the breeze cooled down the too hot, lazy afternoon; and the men worked away at the odd maintenance jobs that were always in need of a handy man.

Speak of the devil, Kouchou thought with an inward smirk as she spied a familiar head of tousled silver. Tucking her hands across herself and under her elbows, she wandered leisurely down the hall towards the stairs.

* * *

"Time for a rest?"

Seiran glanced over his shoulder at the invitation his employer issued, noting the servant who carried a tray of cool water and fruit and who walked quietly behind her master. The young girl looked to be only seven or eight, but worked as all did at the Kougarou. He inclined his head in thanks, turning fully in courtesy to give a curt bow to both women.

"I'll just go wash my hands, thank you--."

"Oh, no need," interrupted Kouchou smoothly as her assistant bowed and moved away, returning to the main building that housed the women of the Kougarou.

With a predatory glint in her painted eyes, she clicked her fan shut and set it on the side of the tray. "Let me.."

And that was when the soldier became wary.

"I'm sure things are very busy," he started, wearing his usual impersonal smile, and holding his hands nonchalantly before him, "and there's no need. I can clean up and help myself to--."

Smiling engagingly and feigning innocence—poorly--, the buxom woman took a step closer, offering a morsel of succulent pineapple out on a pair of elongated chopsticks, a perfectly manicured hand just underneath to catch it in case it fell.

"Say 'ahhh'…"

But Seiran stood very still, watching her, not complying.

Yet.

A drop of pineapple juice squeezed from the fruit and dripped to her hand.

Kouchou swallowed her smile and widened her eyes as she looked at her prey.

"You're making a mess. It's getting all over me, look," she teased in a low voice.

And with practiced grace, she brought the sweet, tangy bite to Seiran's mouth, just as she brought her other, sticky hand to her open mouth, and licked it clean, the tip of her tongue daring to peek through her fingers.

Seiran didn't open his lips, but he swallowed. His eyes remained on the woman who took another step closer, bringing the bait to within a breath of his mouth.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her soft nose nudging loose locks of his hair out of the way, "Would you reject my hospitality, Seiran?"

This time, she was close enough and heard him swallow.

"I'm… simply not hungry at the moment. I apologise."

Reveling in his discomfort as she admired his self-control, she pulled back, inch by inch, just enough to accidentally brush her cheek against his as she spoke.

"Then you're certainly thirsty. All this hard work, outside on such a hot day… Let me get you a drink." She waited for a reaction, unmoving from her position of invasion into his personal space.

Nothing.

Refusing to give in, she floated back to the tray and set aside the fruit and chopsticks. He was so wonderfully, dreadfully noble at times. It was so endearing.

Well, if he wasn't giving in, neither was she…

She knelt very carefully beside the pitcher, drawing the water with exquisite care as if it were the richest wine. She kept her eyes averted, but felt his on her the whole time.

When she stood, she lowered her lashes slightly and looked him up and down.

The man who'd stared down thugs and taken out assassins stiffened.

"There's really no need."

Was it just her, or did his voice suddenly become quite… tight?

"It would be my pleasure," she murmured.

One step at a time, she drew nearer, holding the cup just in front of her at chest level. Her chest. His eyes followed her every move.

When she could feel his breath on her face, she stopped, brought the cup to her lips, and took a sip.

… And keeping her mouth firmly sealed, smiled at him, her lips still glistening with the liquid. They eyes met, locked… and darkened as heat bled into their gaze.

Was it wrong to be so amused when she noticed the sweat bead on his brow?

Of course, the poor man still held his hands up in front of him in token resistance, but it was easy enough for her to slip between them. With the hand not holding 'his' drink, she reached up, slid her fingers along his chin to cup his cheek, and angled his mouth to meet hers.

He kept his wide, violet eyes open a moment, taken aback, but not resisting.

Then he closed them.

And relaxed.

Leaned in to meet her...

And drank deeply.

* * *

With her usual sensual gait, Kouchou returned to her den, a small, private smile on her red, swollen lips.

Really, if he thought she wouldn't be able to crack his shell, he was sorely underestimating her…

* * *

Posted 23 January, 2010. MM. END.


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